Nanny Cam

Remember at the end of The Nanny Diaries when Nanny tells off the nanny cam hidden in the teddy bear? Well, I'm about to go nanny cam on this blog.

Yesterday was my last day with Eloise for the summer. Tomorrow, they are leaving for New York, then on to Florida for July. In between, they will be home, but I will be in Costa Rica with Grayer. Of course, when I told Mrs. X this, she was not happy. "But that's when I need you most!" I'm sorry, but my commitment was until June 11. I'm not going to miss out on a travel opportunity because you are incapable of packing your own suitcases.

All this week, I was counting down the days until summer freedom. Yes, it meant living in poverty for the rest of the summer, but it was a trade-off I was willing to take. My excitement had nothing to do with Eloise; I was really going to miss her. It had everything to do with Mrs. X. (Sound familiar?) Over the last six months, I've been Mrs. X's personal assistant, only with a 5-year-old in tow. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to run all over town, going grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning, going to the bank, running to clients' houses, er, mansions, picking up goods at fancy shmancy designer stores with a 5-year-old (and sometimes a dog) tagging along? Yeah, Mrs. X doesn't either.

The woman has no concept of reality, nor does she have any grasp on time management or how long it does indeed take to do anything, and never, ever factors city traffic into anything. I knew the job would require some errand running for her, but I never fathomed the things she can't seem to do for herself, including raising her own child.

This week was the last straw. First of all, I had to take her to the doctor. I also had to schedule the appointment. I scheduled all the appointments. I was expressly told to only schedule the doctor's appointment for a time when I could take her so Mrs. X "didn't have to." Previously, I had had to schedule a dentist appointment for the morning, when I wasn't able to take her, and the woman asked me at least 5 times if I was sure I couldn't schedule it another time. Seriously. So I took Eloise to the doctor. She needed to get a shot. The nurses had her sit on my lap and I had to hold her down while they gave her the shot. She figured out what was going on as they were about to give her the shot, so of course, she struggled to get away. Then, when it was all over, she was left in my lap, clinging onto me, big, fat crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks. When I relayed the story to the cute neighbor, he shook his head and said, "I can't believe a non-parent is doing this."

He's right. It was starting to feel like blood money. Here I was, collecting paychecks every week so that this woman could continue to be a bad parent.

By Thursday morning, I knew I only had two days left, but I didn't think I could even make it through that. I knew I couldn't keep doing this any longer. I figured I would let Mrs. X know of my plans over the summer (while she was gone) so I could go about finding my own replacement without her breathing down my neck. On Friday, my main task was to pack Eloise's bag for them to go out of town for the next two weeks. Mrs. X had laid out all her clothes. It was my job to get it in the suitcase. Why can't she just put it in the suitcase herself, you ask? The world may never know. Instead of just letting me do my own thing, however, she kept giving me other things to do. I was getting incredibly irritated. I just wanted to scream, do you want me to pack or not?! I didn't, but she picked up on my irritation. I won't go into all the details of the conversation, but she went on and on and on (as she always does, she is constantly talking over people and never gives them a chance to speak. She even talks over Eloise's therapist- yes, Eloise has a therapist.) Finally, when I did get a chance to speak, I finally just flat out told her I didn't think I could work for her. I knew if I didn't tell her she was the problem, she would tell Eloise that Eloise was the problem, and I wouldn't be able to bear that. Luckily, she didn't stiff me in my final pay (She actually gave me a nifty $300 bonus. Severance package, I guess) and Eloise didn't have to run down the drive screaming for me. But there were a few tears, as I had to say goodbye to her. I feel like somehow I failed her and she was taken from me before my work was done.

And now I need a nanny came. Here goes...

Hey, Mrs. X. See this darling, adorable brown-eyed girl? She's your daughter. Not an accessory. Not something you can dress up in cute clothes and use to help you climb the social ladder. Maybe you should try coming home from work before 7pm a few nights a week (Eloise goes to bed at 7:30), or maybe skip the stylist (that I know you pay more than you pay me) so she can spend some time with you. You know those behavior problems she's been having? The ones that caused you to pay $170 per hour to the kiddie shrink? If you would just put down your iphone and give her a little attention, they might go away. Also, her dad would really like to be more a part of her life. Is there a reason you only allow him to have dinner with her once a week? Maybe, just maybe, if you let her stay at his house a weekend or two, those behavior problems might just go away. Girls need their fathers. Keeping him away will lead her to seek attention from men in other ways as she grows older. That therapist you pay so much money to knows all this, but she won't tell you, because she wants to keep taking your money.

Oh, and speaking of money, did you seriously just tell me that some weeks you struggled to pay me? SERIOUSLY? Did you seriously try to make me out to be ungrateful for that? Because let me count the ways you squandered hundreds of dollars a week just to keep up appearances. And I know because I whipped out your American Express card an awful lot in the last 6 months.
1. We can never, EVER, forget The Bookmark. Ludicrous.
2. I bought multiple photo albums for $125 a piece. Seriously? Have you ever heard of Target? You have at least 25 of those albums. Why? Who cares how much you paid for a PHOTO ALBUM?
3. Eloise has more clothes than I do. I've also seen the catalogs you order them from and therefore know that they are obscenely expensive. Kids play in dirt. They also grow very quickly. Why would you ever need to spend that much money on clothes? And then pay to have them DRY CLEANED? $75-$100 a week on dry cleaning is ridiculous.
4. I was instructed to cook dinner for Eloise on Wednesday. What did I cook? Filet mignon. Of course, I, being the simple person that I am, had no idea how to cook filet mignon. So I called the cute neighbor. When I explained what I had to do, he said, "Are you fucking kidding me? Give her a burger and bring the filet home to me. She'll enjoy that more." Seriously. She's five.
5. You have subscriptions to Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, People, New York Journal, and at least a half dozen decorating magazines. Is that really necessary? By the way, when you throw them out (ever heard of recycling?) I took them out of the garbage for my own use. Thanks for that.

I could really keep going all day, so don't tell me that some weeks you struggled to pay me. In reality, you should have been paying me twice as much as you did, because I was the one taking care of the most important thing in the world: Your daughter. I guess we know where your priorities are.

Did you also just tell me that I was always in such a hurry to get out of there when you FINALLY came home and that some nights you were up until 2 in the morning doing what I didn't "get done"? Seriously? When I started this job, you told me 15 hours a week. 15! How many weeks did I only work 15? Once! And you were in California that week! Every other week I worked well over 20 hours. If you can't get all your shit done, then you need a lesson in time management. Or HIRE SOMEBODY ELSE.

I wish I would have cleaned your toilet with your toothbrush.

Whew.